


You Got Stars, They're in Your Eyes

by tgposey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8731366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgposey/pseuds/tgposey
Summary: “Wait, you’re not going to read it right now?” He stops her, confusion on his face as he stops his fingers from tearing open the envelope even more. “I thought we were going to do it together.”“I am going to read it now, but just not with you. I’ll be more concerned about you reading my letter than reading yours and I want to get the full effect.” Stiles sighs again, he’s not going to win this one so he nods his head. * * *Also known as the one where Stiles and Lydia write one letter to each other to say whatever they have to say. It could end up either way for the two, depending on what they decide to say. Who knows what's going to happen?





	

“Is this _really_ a good idea?” Stiles asks as he sits across from the girl in the courtyard of the school, a frown on his features as he holds the envelope in his hand, playing with the edges anxiously. “I mean what if one of us is just incredibly offended by this and it goes horribly wrong. I don’t want to end our friendship over something so minuscule.”

Lydia rolls her eyes at the boy, while, yes, he was bringing up a worry of hers as well there was no chance that what they wrote in these letters were going to offended them so much that would stop being friends. They had saved each other time and time again, there were bonds that just couldn’t be broken – and theirs was one.

Upon entering their last weeks at Beacon Hills High the two found themselves sitting in Lydia’s room staring at each other. They wanted to be together, the supernatural had calm down and there was time for them to truly and utterly fall in love with each other; they both knew it too, they wanted to give it a try, wanted to finally give this thing a go. But, they couldn’t, there were so many things they needed to talk about in their past that keeping them from doing this. Every time they kissed their lips pulled apart because there were words that were hanging onto them that made their kisses sour. It was impossible for the two to just jump into it, not now, they needed to have a talk.

But, no matter how much they had been through they couldn’t find the words to speak about what they wanted too, maybe because there was too much to cover or because they didn’t want the conversations to turn sour; they just wanted to say what they had to say and move on. So they decided to do what was best for the both of them, Stiles and Lydia would write one letter about whatever they wanted, and it could be however long. They cannot hold back, this was their one shot to get everything out, and so they did. They wrote their hearts out and here they were ready to exchange these letters. Stiles was nervous, he gave his heart and soul to the girl already but on pen and paper it seemed more pathetic – as if the girl’s opinion would change of him instantly. Lydia, on the other hand, was straight forward, she said what she needed to say, but that didn’t mean they knew what the other was going to say.

“We’re not going to end anything, okay? That was the whole point of this, to move on, go forward from what has happened over the years.” She takes her off white envelope and slides it across the table, watching as his brown eyes follow the material. He lets out a sigh, his broad shoulders falling as he does, he knew he had no choice but to do the same. “Thank you.” Lydia smiles at him as she grabs the paper and stands up.

“Wait, you’re not going to read it right now?” He stops her, confusion on his face as he stops his fingers from tearing open the envelope even more. “I thought we were going to do it together.”

“I am going to read it now, but just not with you. I’ll be more concerned about you reading my letter than reading yours and I want to get the full effect.” Stiles sighs again, he’s not going to win this one so he nods his head and lets the girl leave; he knows he would feel more comfortable with her around but lets her have her space. Watching as the redhead walks off, he finishes ripping open the letter before unfolding the many pieces of paper, his eyes starting to glide on the page as he reads:

‘Stiles,

Hemingway once wrote ‘the world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of those you can be sure it will kill you too, but there will be no special hurry’. So to answer the question you’ve been dying to ask me, but haven’t been able to muster up the courage to in the past year. No. No, I do not blame you for the death of my best friend, and neither does Scott. In fact, the only person who blames you is you and (being quite frank) you have every right to, I know I would. Those aren’t the words you were probably looking to hear right now, but they’re the only words that are coming to mind right now. I want to get on with the rest of this letter, move on with talking about everything else that the four years of friendship and companionship has compelled me to think about, but I can’t go another minute without bringing up Allison. It still breaks my heart to think about her, to think that there was nothing any of us could do to help her, but the less I think about how she died the more I think about how she would have wanted things to go on after her death.

I’d like to think that her burial was what she would have wanted, the people she loved and she cared about most and that was it. Not the person she sat next to at math class freshman year who asked her for a pencil once, not the girl who told her she liked her top in the bathroom during lunch that one time, but the people who genuinely knew and cared about her and her legacy. I remember watching you that day, my eyes hurt from crying and Scott didn’t want to talk to anyone so you were left to your own devices, and when you thought no one was looking you leaned over and placed a single flower that you had found in the field on her gravestone. You did it again a few minutes later. Sneaking away you found yourself to a similar one with different writing sketched in it, you place the singular flower but you did something different this time – you kissed it. I don’t need to write the name for either of us to know who it was, I’d like to think they both watched you that day, Stiles. My mom used to tell me when I was younger that heaven had no room for anger, or grudges but only forgiveness and love; without getting too religious, I’d like to think that Allison went to heaven forgiving the mistakes of that dreaded night. She’s holding onto the flower you placed there, she hasn’t let it go. Neither of them have.

The idea of death is so haunting that it’s never brought up, we don’t talk about it until we’re face to face with the breaking news that someone we love is gone, never to return again. Maybe it’s the idea of being so close to death, feeling it ache in my bones and pumping in my veins that my brain gets it. I understand death, it’s so close to me that it feels more like a memory to me. Living. Living is the part that scares me. Aiden and Allison were taken from me so quickly that I didn’t get to enjoy their lives, to relish in their presence and remember everything about them. There are days where I struggle to remember what Allison’s laugh sounded like, it haunts me, consumes me because each day I am farther away from the last time I saw her. The last time I heard her laugh. I remember the last time I heard you laugh though, it was probably a few minutes before I eventually handed you this letter, over something so miniscule like a video of a dog that you shared on Facebook, or a text that Scott sent you last night. I conditioned myself to remember people’s laughs now, to remember their every detail because I don’t ever want to forget them anymore. While forgetting things about my best friend is sad, it scares me to ever think that I could ever forget anything about you.

I would like to think that I remember a lot about us, more than you probably think I do because it was during a time where my life seemed to be consumed by nothing more than who was coming to my party and when the next time I could make out with a guy was. And that’s where this story begins with us, it begins in a place where I was not who I truly was with someone who did not see me for me. I’ll break it to you slowly and, hopefully, less painfully. I did love Jackson, and I still do, but there’s a difference in how. I love how he was my first, and how at the time he gave me this false sense of security that I probably needed during a very tough time in my life. I do not love how he was an asshole, plain and simple, he was a dick to everyone even me, used me and my best friend and simply cared about himself. But, Jackson holds a special place in my heart that no one understands, not even the me that is standing here today because freshman year Lydia and senior year Lydia are two different people, respectfully.

I didn’t love you when I first met you, I’m not sorry for it either. I couldn’t love a complete stranger and I wasn’t going to – I mean how could I? You knew everything about me, and I couldn’t even wrap my head around the fact that there was someone named ‘Stiles’ in all of my classes since the third grade and I didn’t know who he was. Dress shopping at Macy’s was the first day I even remembered your name, and I was less than impressed to be going together to the dance. And before you crumple up the letter and get mad about the past, realize that night changed _us_ forever. Jackson never called me beautiful. You did. Jackson never wanted to dance with me. You did. Jackson never realized I was hiding my intelligence to be popular. You did. Jackson didn’t come to my side that night. You did. And that’s when I first began to notice you, and I haven’t stopped since.

The night I went missing is still a big blur to me, I don’t remember where I went, what I did or who I saw, but when I walked out of the woods in nothing in front of what felt like the entire population of Beacon Hills, I wanted nothing but to see a familiar face, someone I knew, and luckily I did. Someone in a matter of days you managed to be there for me so much already, everywhere I turned you were there (after you woke up from passing out, of course). I got examined and was sitting in the back of the ambulance when you walked up to me, you didn’t say anything because you were either too nervous or still in shock at what you just saw. But you handed me a pair of sweatpants that you found lying in the back of your Jeep, I watched you struggle and mumble to yourself about not being able to find them for a good ten minutes. Thank you for finding them, thank you for going through all that trouble that night, and pretty much every time you go out of your way for me.

I notice those times, the times where you take the wrong hallway to class so that you can talk to me for a few minutes – or when you just happen to be driving past my house and notice me walking my dog outside. Maybe it’s selfish of me to admit that I like those moments because it means I’m on your mind, but I’ve never had someone do all those things for me before. No one has ever gone out of their way to see me, to want to talk to me, to love me. Allison asked me a question one night when we were in the car together, she asked “remember what it feels like? All those times in school when you see him standing down the hall and you cannot breathe until you’re with him. Or those times in class when you can’t stop looking at the clock because you know that he’s standing right out there waiting for you. Don’t you remember what that’s like?” I couldn’t think of it at the time, it was hard to imagine and a foreign concept to me to be that _in love_ with someone. How was that even possible?

It’s possible.

I love you that much, Stiles.

The first time I realized it was Junior year, we had known each other for sometime at this point and things were…different between us. I was sitting on your bed and you were looking at your board that you finally pieced together, red string hanging all over your walls. I felt bad for getting you in trouble and you casually looked into my eyes and told me to stop doubting myself, I had never been wrong. You told me that you would go back to school and search all night just to prove it. My heart fluttered, my stomach flipped and I searched your eyes and tried my hardest to tell you how much I loved you at that moment but the words just wouldn’t come out. I was hoping you’d feel it, but maybe you didn’t. I went home that night and couldn’t sleep, I was so worried and so anxious that maybe what I was feeling wasn’t love for you but just love for what you do for me, how you go to the ends of the earth to make sure I’m okay. It wasn’t, I knew it wasn’t because I loved Jackson, but I am so in love with you, Stiles. There’s not a night where I don’t go to sleep without thinking about you, or wake up in the middle of the night wondering if you’re thinking about me. I find myself staring at you, and doing little things to try to be around you more often. I catch myself and I scold myself for some reason though, as if it should be a secret how much I want to be with you, or if deep down I’m still…kind of scared of giving my heart to you.

I was never ready to be in a relationship with you, never. My best friend and boyfriend just passed away, my heart was broken, and I had just figured out what true love was in a matter of minutes – it was a hard time to comprehend everything at once. I wanted to talk to you about it though, maybe to try to see how you were feeling or just trying to get some type of confirmation for my feelings. Honestly, I’m not really sure what I was looking for. Something happened though, something that you never knew of because Scott is just such a good friend

 I went to your house, and just as I was going to knock on your door, it swung open. Scott stood there, his eyebrows raised and it took him about two seconds before he knew what was going on. I couldn’t even get a word out before he grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the house. “Don’t go inside. Don’t do whatever you’re going to do.” He warned me, a frown on his face. “Before you can argue with me, Stiles and Malia are upstairs making out right now and this isn’t a good time for either of you.” Did he just say you and Malia were…making out? I was confused, the last thing I remembered was you chasing after me and then it stopped. You weren’t chasing me anymore. It’s selfish of me to continue to string you along all these years and then when I’m finally feeling something back just expect you to be there for me. Your life doesn’t revolve around me; I should never have expected it to.

I can’t sit here and say that you and Malia dating didn’t hurt me, that would be a lie and this letter is supposed to be us being honest with each other. There was resentment for a while, I still cared about both of you, but there was a lot of anger that was mostly aimed at myself for taking _so_ long to realize what you meant to me. She had what I wish I could, and it was just such a tough time for me. You two loved and cared about each other, so eventually I had to come to terms with it.

Malia spoke up to me after you two broke up, she didn’t say much to me at first because she was heartbroken, you were her first in a lot of ways and that is always a special thing. I remember her talking about you made her feel safe, like she belonged in a world where she was obviously an outcast in. I imagine that a transition like that is probably hard, there’s no easy way to do it, but she kept insisting that you made it easy – like she had been doing it her whole life. That’s what you do, Stiles, you make your friends feel like they belong, you remind them of who they truly are and never let them down. She said something that still sticks out in my mind to this exact moment. “I never got the impression that Stiles didn’t love me, I could smell it on him whenever we were together. But, when he’s around you there was something different, a different scent. It’s stronger than love but…it’s unfinished.” How could a scent be unfinished? That’s impossible. Then I remembered the French expression “la douleur exquise” while it literally just translates to exquisite pain – it really means the heartbreaking pain of wanting someone you can’t have. She then explained that she smelled the same thing on me and it was hard to warm up to me because of it. Of course, I apologized for that because I never wanted to get in the middle of her relationship with you. She simply responded with, “Stiles loves me. I love him. But, I’m already okay with whatever happens between you two. You’re Stiles and Lydia, the world knows you’re destined for each other.”

Here we are now, aren’t we? So close to being together but still somehow not able to say the words that we want to out loud. I’m glad I got to write down all of these things, it’s so hard to sit down and talk about this, especially since Beacon Hills has some bad timing with all these supernatural creatures coming to town. The rest of what I want to say is probably better to explain in person.

            XO Always,

            Lydia’

Stiles is staring at the sheet of paper in his hands with his mouth completely dropped. How…could she just finish the letter like that? There are definitely people staring at him as he tries to find maybe a missing page or something – it can’t be over yet. But, all he can find is the last page where her name is written in black ink, in the most perfect script he could ever imagine.

Somehow the girl managed to admit that she’s loved him longer than he thought and pass it off as if it was common knowledge. Well it wasn’t for Stiles. His hand is brushing through his hair as he’s speed reading the letter again, not even sure what to think at that moment.

His hands are shaking as he picks up his phone from the table, quickly trying to find the girl’s number to give her a call. The phone rings for what feels like an eternity that he doesn’t even process when the girl finally picks up.

“Lydia,” he says into the phone. “Where are you? We need to talk.”

* * *

Finding a place to herself at Beacon Hills High was always a problem, Stiles had a good spot where it was unlikely that someone was going to come up and bother him except maybe Scott, but everyone knew Scott would walk away if he saw Stiles was busy too. The library was the only quiet place she could think of that but even as she walked in, there were bustling students trying to get their last projects of the year done. Making her way to the second floor, she found a table in the back and sat down hoping that no one would disturb her.

The envelope felt almost, if not just, as heavy as hers and her mind couldn’t even begin to think of all the things that Stiles could have written. There’s just so much history between the two that even she could have gone on forever and ever but decided that maybe only the important things needed to be said.

Her fingers unfold the pieces of paper and she smiles one her eyes start to go over his chicken scratch of hand writing. The words in front of her saying:

‘Lydia,

I know we learned to write letters in like second grade, but do I have to write your name at the top or like a ‘dear’? I think we both know who this is going to. Unless someone foolishly gets their hands on it then maybe it’d be best that they know I’m talking about you and not about them. That would be awkward, right? Like, ‘hey Stiles I got your letter and I didn’t know you felt that way’ like…oooh...yeah sorry, not about you.

Anyway, that’s totally not what this letter is supposed to be about. See how well I listen to instructions? I guess I should just start from the beginning then, right? It’d be the easiest thing to do. I like to think that you remember this moment, but I think it just changed my life and that’s why it stands out so much in my mind. It’s third grade, first day of school and we’re in Mrs. Phillips classroom. I’m sitting at my desk trying to figure out how to do this worksheet when a sudden knock on the door disturbs the class. Mrs. Phillips gets up from her desk and makes her way over to the door, I can’t see anything but a lock of long red hair. I decide that maybe it’s someone important so I stand up on my chair, trying to see around the door and Mrs. Phillips (this is the first time my curiosity gets the best of me, surprisingly). The stranger steps into the classroom and our teacher says, “Class, this is Lydia Martin, she just moved here and it’s her first day at Beacon Hills, let’s make her feel welcome”. I’m promptly told to sit down after your introduction but I can’t stop staring at you. Even in the third grade you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. There’s only two seats open in the class, one across from me and one across from Thomas Harris. I think we both know where you got sat and how heartbroken little 9-year-old me was.

We didn’t talk once that year, or for any years after that until high school, which is really surprising because we were in almost every single class together until the moment we “officially” met. Oh, sorry, I lied you spoke to me once during the middle school dance when you asked me to move out of your way so you could get some punch. I’ll never forget that moment.

High school came and you started to date Jackson, which wasn’t surprising at all, he was the captain of the lacrosse team and you were the most beautiful girl in school it was literally written in the stars for you two to be together. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t hate that or that I had no idea _why_ you wanted to date him. You were this beautiful, and extremely smart girl who settled for someone who saw way less than what you were. He looked at you like a piece of meat and _that_ is what makes me me mad. It’s what makes me hate the guy more than anything else. Sure, he tried to make mine and Scott’s life a living hell every single day but that doesn’t make me hate him, strongly dislike maybe. But, he started to brush you off, act like you were a piece of trash and that you were nothing to him. To this exact day that infuriates me because you are worth way more than how Jackson deemed you. You always will be.

When Lizard Boy finally left, I realized that you probably still didn’t care too much for me. Friends? Probably, but that had to be it for us. You were seeing Aiden almost right away and that was just another person who treated you like a piece of meat. Maybe he was a little bit better than Jackson, I wouldn’t even give him that. I know it’s not good to speak ill of the dead, something about karma going to come back and haunt me or something, but I think I’ve been through enough that karma doesn’t even scare me anymore. I was trying to find myself at that time, I don’t think I really told anyone but it was just a rough time for me. My panic attacks were coming back more frequently; my dad was so unhealthy that I had to spend almost every night sleeping on his floor to make sure something didn’t happen to him. It was a scary time, everyone around me had some cool power or ability and I was still just the normal kid that made dumb jokes and sucked at lacrosse – seems like nothing really changed, but junior year was really a starting point for me.

I don’t know if you remember this or if you’ll bring it up or not but the day in school where I had a panic attack was one of the scariest moments of my life. I had no orientation of what was real or what was fake which caused me to freak out, and to this day it still scares me to think about it, but it scared me even more that I put you in a position that you didn’t know what to do either. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a panic attack before but they’re an experience I wouldn’t ever wish on my worst enemy. My body feels tingly and I get dizzy. I feel like ice is running through my veins. I want to run away from but I can’t. My breathing is shallow, heart is racing. It’s total panic. How could you help me in that moment? How could anyone help me in that moment? I’m used to handling it on my own, letting time pass but sometimes I don’t know if I’m ever going to make it out of them. It’s scary, it’s not a fun time (not that anyone would _actually_ ever think that) and there have been days when they have just been too bad.

But that day…that day was something else. My lips were suddenly not focused on gasping for air anymore, my mind wasn’t worried about everything around me, all I could focus on was _you_. How the girl of my dreams was sitting on the floor with me, your lips against mine like it was a normal everyday occurrence. This was…unbelievable…indescribable. I wish I focused less on how exciting it was and more how amazing it was. It was was everything I dreamed of and more, but I’ll admit, I wish the circumstances were better. I went home, sat down on my bed and thought long and hard about what happened that day. In retrospect, I figured it probably meant nothing to you at first, just a way to calm me down in a time of need. Friend to friend. I couldn’t find an answer that day about what it meant to me, but I did a few months later when I was with Malia. We were sitting in her bedroom and I could feel that same sinking feeling that comes with my panic attacks before they actually happen. The initial feeling is what gets me going, it’s like drowning but you just won’t give up, can’t take that last gulp and then you’re wondering why you can’t.

Malia freaked out, she had no idea what was going on, and her senses started to freak out and she was pretty much convinced I was going to die. I told her to leave the room and the next thing I know I’m sitting on my bed, eyes closed just thinking about that moment that you kissed me. Twenty seconds. It took me twenty seconds in that moment to calm down and go back to normal. That has to be a person record, it usually takes minutes – sometimes even up to an hour.

My next attack after that was a few weeks after, but honestly I wouldn’t even call it anything because I felt that feeling happen again. I somehow racked my brain enough to have a clear enough thought that I could think about it again. Two minute was how long this one lasted from the time it started to the time I was able to think about you and that kiss. There are so many things that have happened after that, things that normally set me off, but…nothing. That was my last one. And then i realized something, you kissed me that day and all of the planets aligned, the troubled waters settled and suddenly, I’m not drowning anymore. I always thought anchors were a werewolf thing, to keep them grounded so they don’t start shifting through the day – that was until you became my anchor.

When I first started dating Malia I wasn't too sure what to do, mostly because i’ve never been in a relationship before. My whole life I had loved and lusted over someone I couldn't have that actually being with a person who wanted me back was...different. I don't remember the exact moment I fell in love with you, Lydia, I just remember always feeling that way. But, I do remember the first time I realized I loved Malia. I won't go into the gross details about and start getting all mushy gushy on you, but it was very distinct. A couple of weeks passed though until I had come to the realization that yes, I loved Malia, but the way I felt for her was never the same as how I felt knowing that I loved you. Maybe that’s when I realized that you weren’t just my anchor, but my soul mate as well.

I hate, _hate_ thinking about death because it’s affected so many people around me. Allison’s death was something that haunts me at all hours of the day, deep down I think I know I’m not fully to blame for it but I can’t help but feel this weight of responsibility on my shoulder. Scott doesn’t talk about it much with me, whenever I try to apologize he shuts me down immediately and acts like we’re not talking about anything. It brings out a different side of him, but I can relate because if the tables were turned and I lost you, I would be the most miserable (yes more than I already am) person in the entire world. I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eyes, my life would just be so dull and never ending – it’d be the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I caught a glimpse of it that night, you were on the table and you wouldn’t open your eyes, wouldn’t take a gasp for air. I felt my lungs collapse and my heart break in half I just kept pleading for you to open your eyes. I needed to see your eyes. Those stunning green eyes that I’ve known so well since I was in the third grade. Deaton said once that someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection, is like their emotional tether. I’d like to think that’s the reason that you came back to me that day, and everyday after that.

I wish I was better with words because I know you’re going to write me this huge eloquent letter in this beautiful cursive font and you’re going to some how find a way to understand my sloppy handwriting but I just want you know that all these words are just fancy ways of telling you how much I love you. I’ll always love you Lydia Martin.

Yours,

Stiles’ 




Lydia doesn’t remember when she started crying; his words, as simple as they are, are beautiful and touching – everything she expects from Stiles because as always he never let her down. She’s making sure no one can see her as she’s wiping away her tears, but suddenly feels her phone vibrate. He must have just finished as well, the two always just so connected.

“Hello?” She answers the phone as she wipes away a tear

“Lydia,” the other’s voice says through the phone. “Where are you? We need to talk.”

 

* * *

The two end up meeting in the parking lot at Stiles’ jeep, he’s resting it against it as the girl is fixing her skirt and making her way over; she’s nervous for some reason despite both of them just spilling their hearts out in these letters. She catches his eye when she’s still a bit away and Lydia notices as he moves away from the jeep – he’s actually walking towards her now.

“Hey,” she says as soon as they’re close enough to hear each other. Stiles doesn’t respond, his face seems stern – but maybe it’s not, it’s hard to read and Lydia is nervous that she might have upset the boy and stops in her tracks. He’s still walking, and when he reaches her he doesn’t waste one moment before his hands are on the sides of her cheeks and he’s pulling himself down to attach his lips onto hers. It’s the first romantic kiss the two share, without fearing for someone’s life or well being – but just the amount of love and adoration they have for each other. Lydia is stunned at first but finds herself giving into it for the moments it lasts. Who cares who sees them or if they’ll get in trouble for not _actually_ being in class, Stiles and Lydia deserved this moment and each other.

They pull away and they’re just looking at each other, a few moments of looking into each other’s eyes before a smile appears on both of their faces. Stiles drops his hands to her waist and just pulls her in for a hug just the feeling of her against him was what he needed at that moment. Everything was okay, they were okay and they were together.

“Stiles,” Lydia speaks up, pulling out of the hug slightly as she rests the palms of her hands on his chest. His brown hues lock with hers and she gives him a small smile. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing,” he answers as he reaches his hand up to caress her cheek softly. “I just wanted to be with you when I told you how much I loved you.” He pauses for a moment. “Lydia Martin, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Stiles. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> This took such a long time for me to write but I loved every single second of writing just as much as I hope you guys enjoy reading it. Thank you so much for taking the time out to do so, if you want to see me writing anything just find me on tumblr at http://kellskapowski.tumblr.com


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